Prais. Thank you Ten thousand times, my Dear.
Calista. I'm almost weary of this illiterate Company.
Mrs. Wellf. Now, Mr. Praiseall, get but Mrs. Lucas's New Dance, by that time sure the Lady will come.
Prais. I'll warrant ye my little Lucas.
SINGS.
With a Trip and a Gim,
And a Whey and a Jerk at Parting.
Where art thou, my little Girl?
Little Boy. She is but drinking a Dish of Coffee, and will come presently.
Prais. Pshaw! Coffee! What does she drink Coffee for? She's lean enough without drinking Coffee.
Mr. Pink. Ay, but 'tis good to dry up Humours.